


Plain, White Shirt

by MadamRed



Series: 400-Follower Celebration (Tumblr) [15]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-21 21:40:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9567944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamRed/pseuds/MadamRed
Summary: Writing prompt requested on Tumblr: “Isn’t that mine?”





	1. Plain, White Shirt

He didn’t notice it at first. It was subtle. Someone would have to _really_ be looking to realise it.

He wore one of the many plain, white, button-down shirts he owned one Friday, not thinking too much about what he chose to wear in the morning. That day, after a mind-numbing afternoon of paperwork, he went to your apartment, after dropping Jack off with his aunt for a whole weekend, and spent it in its entirety with you.

It was the first time you had done something like that, spending so much time together ever since this romance had started a few months before. With the two of you being in the same office, along with a whole team of profilers, it meant discretion was of utmost importance.

However, you two excelled at the stoic-face act, although Aaron’s expression usually included his signature frown ninety percent of the time. You both managed to hide your feelings for each other. The only problem you had encountered thus far was not blurting out the other person’s first name, a natural change once your relationship progressed into something more.

The matter at hand here was that, in his haste to get home on Sunday due to Jack feeling slightly ill, he had forgotten that one particular shirt at your house. He didn’t think much of it. He didn’t even realise he had left it behind until he put his son to bed after giving him some medicine and checking his temperature. You would probably return it whenever you could, maybe during the weekend if the team didn’t get a case.

So, it was a bit of a surprise for him to see you with _his_ shirt on Wednesday at the office. You had taken the precaution of putting on a baggy sweater on top of it, but he knew. He recognised it. He owned at least twenty of the same brand, in different colours.

He stiffened for a brief second before continuing back up the stairs to his office. You saw him and knew he had recognised it. You had debated with yourself whether it was a good idea to wear it to the office, which is why you waited a couple of days to do so. It was an indescribable feeling to be wearing something of his to work, even if it was just a shirt.

It reminded you of Friday’s activities, which had led to your burning the dinner you had been working on since you got home. Neither of you had cared in that moment, though. Now, every time you felt the fabric against your skin, you remembered how it felt under your hands when you grabbed onto Aaron’s shoulders to gain better leverage while on the couch.

It also made you giggle, thinking back to it; internally that is... someone would question your sudden laughter if you were to let it out. You had both felt like two teenagers who couldn’t control their hormones and had gotten down and dirty in the living room instead of moving to the bedroom.

So, yes. Your mind had kept on replaying that one moment, despite the fact that you _had_ moved to the bedroom after having some Chinese takeout, and decided to put it on that morning out of impulse. Screw the professional and rational part of your brain. You wanted to show your boyfriend you were thinking of him, damn it. You just didn’t know how he was going to react.

You had an opportunity to find out about an hour later when you took the files you had been working on to his office. You knocked on the open door, and he asked you to close it, his tone normal. Once you sat down, you noticed that he had closed the blinds so no one in the bullpen could look into his office.

 _Interesting,_ you thought. _What could he possibly be up to?_

‘Thank you for the files, (Y/n),’ he said, to which you just rolled your eyes. Business first, as always. ‘I did, however, notice something peculiar about your choice of attire earlier...’

He trailed off with the ghost of a smile as he rounded his desk, perching himself on the edge of it, right in front of you. You smirked and decided to play dumb to humour him.

 ‘Oh, really? And here I thought I looked cute in this oversized sweater,’ you looked down and smoothed the non-existent wrinkles in said garment.

‘I wouldn’t necessarily call you _cute_ in that,’ he commented, his voice low, as he grabbed you by the hand and brought you up to your feet, making you stand right in between his legs.

‘And why is that?’ you teased him by grabbing onto his shoulders and squeezing them, just like you had done on Friday. He put his head on your shoulder, and you heard him groan. You, once again, had to stop the giggle that was about to leave your mouth. ‘Aaron? You haven’t answered my question,’ you told him right next to his ear.

‘Isn’t that mine, (Y/n)?’ he mumbled, his lips moving down the length of your neck.

 _Well, I was not expecting_ this _reaction,_ you thought as you allowed yourself to close your eyes momentarily and enjoyed the feeling of his mouth against your pulse point.

‘(Y/n)? You haven’t answered my question,’ he mimicked you, removing his head from the crook of your neck. You opened your eyes to find him smirking at you.

‘Was this the plan all along, you tease?’ you smiled despite the feeling of disappointment that settled on your stomach at not being able to continue what he had started.

‘Maybe,’ he looked at you from under his lashes and laughed lightly. ‘You should get down to the bullpen soon,’ he added regretfully.

Before he removed his hands from your waist, you grabbed him by the lapels on his suit jacket and kissed him. All tongues and not much finesse, but that was not what you were aiming for. That could wait until the weekend when you planned to tease him yourself.

‘Mmm,’ was all he said before you promptly smoothed the _now_ -existing wrinkles in your sweater and exited his office, leaving the door open behind you.

That evening, while you were lounging lazily on your couch, still clad on your work clothes, with some home-made meal on your lap and an episode of the first comedy show you found on TV, you received a message from Aaron which read:

_Jack is staying with his aunt tonight since he has to be at school early tomorrow for a trip and I can’t make it in time to take him myself._

Your heart jumped at the sudden change of plans but quickly messaged him back telling him to come over, already picking up the clothes you had left around the place from previous days and thinking of what you could wear that would look nice but not too over the top.

You had just put the clothes that had been thrown carelessly over different pieces of furniture a minute ago into your laundry basket, when the bell rang along with your cell phone. You picked up the phone first, hoping it wasn’t Garcia with a case and instead were surprised to find Aaron’s name on the screen.

You raised an eyebrow as you unblocked it and a flush came over your cheeks as you dropped the device on the coffee table, took off the sweater you had worn all day and almost tripped over your own feet trying to get to the door fast enough.

You were greeted by a smirking Aaron, who walked into your apartment and immediately started kissing you the same way you had done earlier in the afternoon. You didn’t even recall either of you closing your front door before he put his hands on your ass to hoist you up as you encircled his waist with your legs and he carried you into your bedroom, never breaking his kiss.

The message?

 _I want to see you in nothing_ but _my shirt._

Yeap. Best decision ever.


	2. On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is Hotch’s POV of what happened that one Friday night mentioned in [Plain, White Shirt](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9567944) (plus one tiny paragraph from the Reader’s perspective in italics towards the end).

He could probably count the instances in which he hadn’t been able to physically wait to have sex with someone with the fingers of one hand. It had been _years_ since he felt that kind of... primal need –for lack of a better expression–, something that made his body feel like it was instantly on fire. And he still wasn’t completely sure what had prompted such a reaction out of him.

You two had been sitting, side by side on the couch, with a glass of wine each, trying to unwind after a long day at the office. One of your legs was draped on top of his lap and his free hand was drawing circles on your skin. You had changed out of your work clothes before you started cooking and were only wearing a loose t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

It was probably that domestic aspect –that of him arriving from the office to find that you had already prepared dinner and that all you had to do was wait for it to be done– which tugged at something in his heart despite all the walls he had built around it. It could’ve also been that you hadn’t had the chance to be intimate with each other yet; your jobs keeping you busy enough as it was beside him being a single parent.

So, all of that combined plus the way your pupils kept dilating the higher his hand went up your leg and your little intake of breath once he reached the hem of your shorts and his fingers dared go underneath the thin garment, made him realise that he couldn’t really wait until _after_ dinner.

He remembered taking both wine glasses and leaving them on the coffee table. After that, it all became a bit of a blur as you took charge of the situation and climbed on top of his lap. He remembered your fingers opening each button of his shirt in an excruciatingly slow fashion as he buried his hands on your hair and seemed to only be able to kiss you. He then felt those same fingers exploring his chest and low abdomen but with the difference that now they were frantic, as if you just couldn’t get enough of his muscles contracting at your mere touch.

That was quickly followed by his own hands moving downwards from their place on your head and then getting rid of your own t-shirt and bra, each newly-exposed stretch of skin getting the same amount of attention from his mouth. You didn’t make too many sounds, either because you were not too vocal during such times or out of shyness, but your panting as he kissed your flushed chest and the way you arched your back to be closer to him showed him just how much you were enjoying it.

He was somewhat in control, albeit getting achingly hard, up until then. He had always considered himself to be a devoted lover, but when you started moving your hips down against his own, all and any coherent thought evaporated from his mind. The only thing he could focus on was the friction you were creating with your beautiful body and how there were still too many items of clothing in the middle for it to _feel_ right.

He pushed you off his lap gently and when you stood in front of him, trying to catch your breath as the fingers of his right hand massaged your hipbone, he felt the same warmth spreading through his chest as when he got to kiss you goodnight after your first date. He smiled softly at you as you lowered your head to kiss him deeply while his hands removed the rest of your clothes.

Once you stepped out of them, you grabbed his hand and pulled him up, too, and he removed the condom he had put in one his pockets earlier _–_ _just in case_ _–_ and threw it on the couch. Then, you started removing his belt and bringing both his trousers and underwear down. When he kicked them off, he brought you closer to his body and kissed you for a while until you pushed him down onto the couch and reclaimed your place on his lap.

Yes, the skin on skin contact was _definitely_ better. He moved his upper body forwards to take off his shirt as you started moving again and whispered _“Keep it on”_ against his lips. He quirked an eyebrow but soon forgot all about it thanks to much more pressing matters. And so the foreplay continued as he kissed and touched you in all the right places. Once he was sure you were ready, he put the condom on and, as you raised yourself, using his shoulders to keep you steady, he aligned himself against your entrance and you started moving down.

The descent was slow but he couldn’t really complain about it because he got to see how your eyes closed and how your beautiful face flushed even more as you adjusted to him. He also noticed how your nails were digging onto his shoulders through the thin, cotton shirt he was still wearing. He smiled as he waited for you to reopen your eyes. When you did, he tentatively moved his hips up, and your mouth fell open in pleasure.

The position may not have provided the best angle for him to do much more other than match your efforts, but you didn’t really seem to care. He lost track of time as he admired the way your body bounced up and down his length; it was a sight to behold, and one that he wanted to cherish and store away in his memory for when he had to be away from you.

Despite the fact that he couldn’t show you _all_ that he was worth, he tried to make it up in kisses. His lips were always connected to any part of your body that he could reach: from your own lips and neck, to both your shoulders and collarbones. It was particularly accelerating for him to be able to just swallow up your moans, which were becoming louder now.

He also noticed the telltale signs which told him you were getting closer and closer to your release... the way you squeezed his shoulders a little more forcefully as he managed to get the angle _just_ right, your irregular breathing along with the little mewls against his ear, and finally the fact that you couldn’t get his name out without stuttering in the middle.

‘A- _a_ -ron.’

And, really, what is a man to do in a situation like that?

So, with one hand still attached to your hip, the other one travelled up your back, making goose bumps appear all over the skin there as it went, and once again he buried it in your hair to bring your faces together and connect your lips in a searing kiss. He then moved forwards until he was sitting on the edge of the couch and started thrusting upwards as he guided your hips with both hands again.

_You broke the kiss, unable to really focus on anything else other than the man beneath you and the sinful way in which he was pumping into you. It was overwhelming to be so close, but you would be lying if you said you wanted him to stop._

He felt how you brought your hands around his back, one in his hair and the other one scratching lightly between his shoulder blades. He heard his name tumbling out of your mouth again and again like a little prayer, getting lost among the moans. He wasn’t a vocal man in general, only speaking when necessary, and that translated to the bedroom as well. Although, in that particular moment, he couldn’t control his own grunts and groans as he felt himself nearing his own end.

Knowing how close he was, he brought his hand between your sweaty bodies and started rubbing your clit with his thumb in little circles. After a few more thrusts, and a bit more help from his fingers, you were coming with a drawn-out moan of his name, stilling your hips and clenching around his cock, which was more than enough to send him over the edge with you as he rode his own orgasm with small, barely-there thrusts, until he was completely spent.

You both collapsed against the back of the couch, sated but smiling, as you tried to catch your breath.

‘I think this might just be my new favourite shirt,’ you told him breathlessly as you came down from your high, your forehead coming to rest against his.

And then you heard it: SSA Aaron Hotchner, BAU Unit Chief, snorted at your comment, which in turn made you giggle, and soon enough, you were both laughing together in your own personal bubble of happiness, until...

‘Do I smell something burning?’ he mumbled, detaching his forehead from yours and looking around your apartment.

‘The chicken!’ you said suddenly, remembering _why_ you had been on the couch in the first place.

There was no point in rushing now, so you both took your time to clean up and put some clothes on before turning the oven off and taking the blackened version of your famous oven-roasted chicken breast recipe.

‘Chinese?’ he asked you, nodding towards the menu attached to your fridge with a magnet.

‘Yeah,’ you sighed.

He came to stand behind you while you called from your cell and ordered, all the while placing open-mouth kisses against your throat, which made it incredibly difficult to understand what the lady on the other end was asking you. You gave her your address in a rush and hung up, turning on the spot and hitting Aaron lightly on the shoulder.

‘See? This is exactly why you’re paying for dinner tonight,’ your frown not really matching your playful tone.

He just nodded, a smug grin on his face, and kissed you on the mouth as his hands settled comfortably on your hips once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have sinned and I hope to see you all in hell~~~ :D


End file.
